


Four Shots In

by pringlesaremydivision



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: M/M, Phone Sex, Polygrumps, Sexting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 02:19:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4373465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pringlesaremydivision/pseuds/pringlesaremydivision
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>the screen flashes up Dan’s name and Arin’s breath catches in his throat.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>He should ignore this.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>He’s not gonna.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Shots In

Look, Arin knows it’s fucking pathetic to be this drunk after four goddamn shots but in his defense, it’s the first time he’s ever had more than a sip, and he’s been up forever at this point, and fucking - Jesus -  _look_ , the fact is, his head is swimming and the last time he got up the room kind of spun around him so he’s not planning on getting up again any time soon.

Which is fine, really. he’s got his phone, and the couch is comfy as fuck.

Everyone else has gone home, finally; Suzy was the last to leave, murmuring, “don’t puke on the couch, babe,” and pressing a kiss to his cheek on her way out. Arin just mumbled at her, and he could hear her chuckling as she shut the door.

His eyes are just beginning to drop closed when his phone buzzes on the table. He’s tempted to ignore it, but shit, it might be Suzy, something might be wrong, not that he’s in any condition to help anyway, or it could be -

the screen flashes up Dan’s name and Arin’s breath catches in his throat.

He should ignore this.

He’s not gonna.

_dude ross just texted me_  
  
_you got fucking drunk dude?? without me? ;)_  
  
Arin huffs out a laugh, tries to steady his gaze on the screen so he doesn’t fuck up his typing too bad.

**din’t get drunk. just had a few shoots**

**shots***

**for charity!**

Dan’s response comes back almost immediately.

_holy shit man, you’re still drunk aren’t you? jesus, arin, are you okay?  
_

Typical. So fucking typical. Dan’s probably just as exhausted as Arin is, has been signing CDs for the past three days, but he’s still checking up on Arin because that’s who he goddamn is. Arin tries to ignore the warmth that wells up in his chest and completely fails.

**fin**

**e**

**fne**

**FUCK**

_hahahahahaha wow so this is drunk arin. bummed i’m not there, dude_

Arin doesn’t even realize what he’s typing until it’s already been sent.

**why what wld you do to me?**

He looks at the phone in horror. Fuck, that kind of shit is supposed to stay in his head, or when Dan’s right next to him and can hear the teasing in his voice. Not over text where it’s way too ambiguous.

There’s a longer pause, and then:

_horny drunk? really, hanson? typical lol_

He could play this off, make a joke. He could. He should.

His fingers are flying over the screen without any input from his brain.

**like you have room to talk**

**saw the video you posted**

**you dance like that sober can’t imagine how u used to be drunk**

**big slut**

What is he  _doing._

He can’t help it, though, he’s been thinking about Dan’s goddamn hips, his  _body_ , since Brian posted that celebration video earlier in the day. He’s watched it a stupid amount of times already, with Barry and Ross when it first went up, Ross hooting in his ear, and then more times than he’d care to admit with the sound off, alone in the bathroom, in his car waiting to pick up the pizzas, and even a couple times on the couch, when he could angle the phone away from everyone else.

They’ve been friends for years now, and Dan’s danced about a million times in front of him, but it’s always been Danny Sexbang-style goofball dancing, all flailing limbs and exaggerated thrusting. That video, though; the way Dan’s hips swiveled and snapped, the lift of his tight black shirt as he raised his arms above his head, showing a strip of stomach that made Arin’s mouth go dry. The thrusting, which seemed less ridiculous in tight jeans than in flag-printed spandex.

Arin’s been at half-chub all day, basically, unable to concentrate on anything other than the thought of clutching those slim hips, of sinking to his knees and raking his teeth over that strip of skin. And apparently the SoCo has just completely eliminated the already tenuous filter between his dick and his mouth.

Fuck it.

**looked so good dan you hav no idea**

**probably good you arent here**

He doesn’t expect Dan to reply. He’ll just play it off in the morning as stupid drunk bullshit, it’ll be fine. He’s said worse to Dan before, honestly.

The phone buzzes again, startling the hell out of him.

_you’re not kidding are you_

Arin stares.

Fuck it all.

**nope**

**realtalk bro**

**wanna suck you off so bad**

**you dont even know**

Arin pushes back his hair and sighs. Well, that’s that, there’s absolutely no way to misinterpret that. He throws his arm over his eyes and tries to force himself to sleep. Nothing else for it, he’s already fucked everything up.

The phone buzzes.

Arin glances, apprehensive, expecting a shutdown at worst, Dan laughing it off at best.

The blood rushes to his cock so fast he almost gets dizzy all over again when he reads Dan’s reply.

_fuck_

_you gonna let me fuck that mouth hanson?_

Jesus  _Christ_  this was not what Arin expected but he’s not arguing.

**please**

_fuck arin_

**want you**

**wanna**

**jesus**

**dan**

**i don’t**

**god**

He can’t even form a sentence right now; the shock’s left him devoid of coherent thought. He groans, tugging his shorts down enough to free his dick to the cool air of the room. Fisting it loosely, he waits for Dan to reply.

_i know_

_gonna get you down in front of me_

_look so good on your knees arin_

_god where are_

_call me?_

Arin draws in a sharp breath. Talking is gonna make it real, in a way that even these texts haven’t, but god, Dan seems to want it and Arin’s not gonna pass up that kind of opportunity, doesn’t know when or if it’s ever going to come around again. He’s hitting the ‘call’ button before he even realizes what he’s doing, and the sound of Dan’s heavy breathing against his ear is almost a surprise.

“Arin?” Dan’s voice is deeper than usual, soft with sleepiness the way it is when they grump late into the night but rough in a way that Arin’s never heard before. It sends a shiver down his spine, and it takes a moment before he can clear his mind enough to reply.

“Yeah,” he manages, throat scratchy, and then, “fuck, Dan.”

Dan laughs lowly. “Gonna call me a slut when you’re over there begging to suck me off, huh?”

Arin stammers, trying to protest, but Dan continues before he can get out anything resembling words.

“That’s fine, man. You can call me whatever you want. Can’t say shit with my dick in your mouth, can you?”

“Please,” Arin mumbles. It seems to be all he’s capable of saying. His cock throbs in his fist and he groans again. “Please don’t - don’t fuck with me, okay, I can’t -”

“Shh,” Dan soothes, warm and comforting. “Not fucking with you, snuggle bear.” Arin laughs. it should sound ridiculous, or at least out of place, but it doesn’t, it sounds perfect coming from Dan. “You close already?”

Arin nods, then remembers Dan can’t see him. “Yeah - kinda.”

“Do it.” Dan’s voice is commanding and it hits Arin like a punch, heat unfurling deep in his belly. “I wanna hear you. Put on a good show for me, Arin? Since you liked mine so much?”

Arin shudders and starts to stroke, his movements clumsy and slow, alcohol still coursing through his veins. He tucks his phone against his ear and pulls up his shirt with his free hand. Chest bared, his nipples tighten immediately, and he gasps.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Dan murmurs encouragingly. “Bet you look so good, man. Haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since you wore that fucking tank top last week, you know that?”

“You - what?” Arin presses his thumb against the head of his cock, running a nail over the slit and spreading the precome around. God, he’s been on edge since Dan texted him back, his head is swimming again, and everything feels hazy in the best possible way.

Dan hums an affirmation. “You’re fucking jacked, man, you think I didn’t notice? Couldn’t stop thinking about your arms, got me so goddamn distracted I haven’t been able to concentrate on anything else.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Arin curses, raking his nails up his stomach, the pinpricks of pain pushing him even closer. “Jesus, Dan, I -”

“Yeah, that’s it, you gonna come? Come on, Arin, fucking come all over yourself, get yourself all sloppy for me, such a little slut, aren’t you?” Dan’s practically growling now and Arin’s helpless, can’t do anything but obey. Two more strokes and he’s spurting hot ropes of come onto his belly and his chest, sobbing out a moan as he shudders through the aftershocks.

It’s quiet for a few moments afterwards, and then Dan lets out a giggle that makes Arin jump.

“Gonna give you so much shit about this in the morning, man,” he says, and Arin snorts.

“Whatever, dude, I didn’t hear you complaining.”

Dan clears his throat. “I’ll be back home on Monday, if…”

“Yeah,” Arin agrees sleepily. “Definitely.”

“Go to sleep, snuggle man.”

“Mmm.” Then: “Dan?”

“Yeah?”

“I - you. This -”

“Yeah, me too,” Dan says, and Arin can hear the smile in his voice.

Arin’s barely got the presence of mind to pull off his shirt and clean his chest and stomach off, and his head is already starting to pound, but he’s pretty sure the hangover he’s definitely going to have in the morning will be completely worth it.


End file.
